Until We Bleed
by xSuchSweetNothingx
Summary: He doesn't know how to love her right but he can't be without her. She wants to help him but she doesn't know how. A two-shot of a toxic, addictive love. Lemons & Alcoholism. All Human / OOC.
1. Until We Bleed Pt 1

**Until We Bleed**

* * *

Moonlight shines into the room through a crack in the curtains. The television is off but there is a noise coming from somewhere else in the apartment. Shards of glass are scattered around the floor. Candles are burning, scenting the room cinnamon.

She's sitting in the black leather chair. Her eyes stare blankly across the room at the bookcase that has yet to hold a book. Her fingers entwine with each other over and over as they rest in her lap. Her lips are parted, and her voice is tired. The skin of her face feels tight from the residue of her tears. She is naked beneath a shirt that smells of him.

She's beautiful.

She's waiting.

He left too long ago but she still knows where he is. What he's doing.

She knows that she should leave. Not just to go home for tonight but to leave him forever.

She knows that she doesn't deserve to be treated this way. She knows that an argument is not an excuse to do the things that he does. She knows that he has a serious problem and that there is nothing that she can do to fix him.

And she knows that, even though she doesn't want to, she could leave him. She knows that she could be happy again if she let him go. She knows that, eventually, she could get over him.

This is not how love is supposed to be.

This hurts. This burns. This rips from the seams that never belonged.

This etches a name into a heart that should have never been given to a man who is incapable of holding it with care.

She swallows back a sob that she is too tired to release, and her eyes sting as more tears trickle down her face.

She know all of these things but they don't matter.

He does.

And even though she knows that she should . . . she just doesn't care.

* * *

The bar is nearly deserted. Chairs are flipped upside down, resting on top of their respective tables. The front doors are locked and the shades are shut to prevent new customers from coming in. The floor has been swept and mopped but it still smells heavily of strong liquor.

One man remains at the bar, sitting with his head down as his finger spins on the top of the glass.

Him.

He's rich and he's angry; every bartenders wish.

He can't remember why he was angry, but that's how he knows that _she's_ helped him.

No. Not her, _her_.

He left the one who he loves at home to come to the one he needs.

The only one who can truly take away his anger and his pain and anything that has ever hurt him is _her_. _She's_ the one that fills his glass, and even though he knows _she _shouldn't be, _she's_ more important than the one who fills his heart.

_She_ couldn't leave but she could.

She should.

She's the one who makes him angry. She makes him hate himself.

He knows he's not worthy of her love.

And he would blame her for making him turn to _her _but she's never to be tainted by his addiction.

He's done enough to her and he knows that.

The bartender interrupts him from his thoughts as he shuffles around, clearly wanting to go home as he asks if he's almost done.

He says yes and throws down every bill he has in his pocket, even though he knows he'll never be done.

He doesn't know it yet but he just gave the bartender a thousand dollars.

He gulps down what's left of _her_. His eyes watch as the final drop slides down the glass and his eyes close as _she_ drips down his throat.

He still isn't happy.

But, then again, he knew he wouldn't be.

_She _can only take everything away.

She can only give everything she has.

And they both do what's expected of them, but he can never have both of them at the same time.

Because a fire cannot start in the water just as the moon cannot shine until the blinding sunlight dims.

He knows where he needs to go.

And he knows that she wants him.

_Not enough_, he thinks, _never enough_.

Because the girl that had once been the source to the purest love has been tainted by his own.

By his obsession. By his greed.

But even so she can't love the way he does.

He relishes in the pain of her love while she suffers from his own.

* * *

The door to the apartment has been open since he left.

He walks in, closing it quietly behind him as he stares at the sight before him.

He sees her as she is and acknowledges that it is because of him. That his love has hurt her this way. That his love has burnt her to ashes. That his love has shattered her just as he'd shattered the glass lying on the floor in front of him.

But he still goes to her.

By the time she's looked up he's already kneeling before her, ignoring the glass piercing his skin through his jeans.

His eyes are shinning at the sight of her through their redness. His comforting scent somehow reaches her senses through the stench of _her_.

She wants to ask but she already knows the answer. She wants to yell but her voice is still tired and she doesn't want him to go back to _her_.

His hands curl around the back of her calves, stroking the skin there.

Her hands rest in his hair as her leans forward, pressing his face to her neck to finally breathe.

_She _took her scent away from him, and now he can't remember why he ever left her.

"Hello beautiful," he whispers, "My pretty, pretty girl," he nuzzles into her warmth, "My sweet baby; my princess; my queen," his lips trail up the side of her neck to her jaw. "My sweet little love," he coos against her lips, his salvation.

It would sound condescending to the ears of others but this is not how it's intended.

He's sorry and he misses her even in her touch and he couldn't be without her because she is all of these things.

She's the only beauty to have ever touched his eyes. She's treated him with tenderness that could only be derived from a dreaming newborn. She's tried to help and save him as a Queen does her love is not fierce enough to compete with his own but soft enough to keep him from desiring that of another.

He slides his hands up her thighs, bunching up the fabric of his shirt at her hips as he pulls her forward and his faces slips down between her legs.

He kisses the bare skin there and her fingers tighten in his hair.

His tongue slips out to taste the dry flesh between her lower lips.

He pulls back to gaze into her eyes.

He is not offended.

He loves, and he can make her love, too.

His pulls her to the very edge of the chair, bending her knees to rest her feet on his shoulders, protecting her from the glass.

He leans forward once again and licks from her bottom to her nub. He watches as her eyes close and her head rolls back and he knows that he's already winning.

But he's not nearly finishing loving her with his mouth. He strokes up and down with his tongue, trailing his face down his path, giving each and every part of her equal attention.

Wetness seeps from her center and he slips his tongue inside to gather it.

He wants ever drop of her, too.

His tongue retreats back to her bottom, only to return to her nub. He does it again and again and again. She comes into his hungry mouth.

His face is dripping with her wetness now but she's still holding him close.

She is not afraid that he'll stop because she knows that he needs her and that she deserves even more than all the love that he can give. She holds him out of love, knowing that he needs to know that she wants him, that he needs her to need him the way he needs her.

But she doesn't know how to, so she holds on instead.

He pulls her closer, her thighs now resting on his shoulders as he loves her, and she comes again. He swallows her sweetness even more desperately than he swallows _her's_. His tongue burrows further within her as he pulls her flush against his face, coating him in her love as his nose strokes her clit with every thrust. And she comes again.

Her head is against the chair and the chair is slick with her love.

This is supposed to feel great. She's not supposed to be able to think right now; her pleasure should have the spotlight of her mind.

But she's uncomfortable.

She wants to show him how to love the right way. She wants him to love her the right way.

Her fingers untangle from his hair and she reaches down to push his face from her core.

His arms lock around her lower back and he pulls her impossibly closer, frantically searching for more of her love. He pants heavily against her, releasing his own breath to take in her essence.

_Not yet,_ he begs, _it's not enough_.

She strokes his working jaw with her thumbs and he relaxes slightly.

But he doesn't stop, and she comes again.

He pulls away just enough to look up at her; remembering that she likes to see him as he loves her.

Her love is all over him; in his eyebrows and lashes, in his nose and his mouth, covering every pore on his face.

But she could never give enough to fulfill his need for her.

And as she gazes down at him loving her, she comes again.

Because even though he's not how she needs him to be, she loves who he is and how much he wants her.

She pulls him gently up her body and he relents.

When he's level with her breasts he kisses each one on its tip, before sucking her left into his mouth.

She moans at the feel of him and runs her hands through his hair, wrapping her legs around his torso to keep him close the way he likes.

She forces herself to push through her lust-filled mind, "We need to talk," she murmurs, his soft hair tickling her lips.

He releases her tip only to move to her other, "Then we'll talk," he whispers, running his tongue over her peak. Her hips jerk against his body in response, ready for more of his love and he starts to move down again.

"We can't talk when you're doing that," she informs him, gasping as he laps at her.

He hums against her center, "Just let me love you a little longer." He drinks down more of her love as she comes again and he angles her hips so that she flows more freely into his mouth.

Her scent swirls around his brain, and he realizes that the high that _she _brings him to . . . it's nothing compared to her love.

He realizes that he doesn't need _her_ like he did before he had her.

Because even though she can't take away the pain from his past . . . she gives him everything he'd been deprived of since his childhood.

Irrevocable, sweet, soft love.

He gets the love from her that he'd yearned for as a neglected child. She gives him the friendship he had needed as a misunderstood teenager. She accepts him in ways nobody else ever has.

She doesn't understand him; not in the least; but she wants to.

And that's more than he can say for anyone else that had ever touched his life.

* * *

_To Be Continued . . ._

* * *

**~ Harlow ~**


	2. Until We Bleed Pt 2

**Until We Bleed**

* * *

It's been three days since their last fight.

He's been trying to be better.

While she get ready for work in the morning, he's downstairs, preparing her breakfast and coffee. While she's at work he cleans, works out, and runs errands for her. When she gets home he's there, greeting her at the door.

It hasn't been easy though.

Every day, when he walks past the bar on the way to the gym, he has to force himself to look away. When he walks through the liquor aisle in to get to the deli in the market he has to clasp his hands together to keep himself from reaching for a bottle.

Or two.

Or three.

Or ten.

Today is different for him, though.

Because she _always_ gets home from work at five-thirty. _Always_.

Not today, though; because it's five-fifty-three and she's still not there.

He's checked outside of their small home twelve times already, looking to see if her car is parked out there.

His mind is racing, conjuring images of what she could possibly be doing; of what's taking her so long to get back to him.

Stuck in traffic.

Picking up dinner.

Getting her hair done.

Getting her nails done.

_No,_ he thinks, _she would have called_.

Editing a new book.

Talking with a new client.

Talking with her boss.

Helping out a co-worker.

_Unlikely_, he thinks, _she would have found some way to tell me_. . .

Visiting her father.

Out with friends.

Out with a boy.

_No_, he growls internally, his hand closing into a fist.

On a date with another guy.

Kissing another guy.

Having sex with another guy.

His brows furrow and his eyes narrow.

He's furious.

She isn't allowed to give her love to anyone else. Her love belongs to him, as well as every other part of her.

Before he even realizes what he's doing he's already out the door.

He doesn't know where he's going but he can't stay home anymore.

He doesn't think about the fact that he's on a route he's been on so many times before.

And when he walks into the bar, _she _greets him.

"_I've missed you, my love._"

* * *

**~ Harlow ~**


	3. Analysis

**Until We Bleed - Analysis**

* * *

The story kicks off with a ton of symbolism.

_Moonlight shines into the room through a crack in the curtains. The television is off but there is a noise coming from somewhere else in the apartment. Shards of glass are scattered around the floor. Candles are burning, scenting the room cinnamon._

The sliver of moonlight shining into the room symbolizes Edward and Bella's unhealthy relationship; how there is more bad days than good days. The unknown noise and the burning candles symbolizes her thoughts and how they are all consuming. The broken glass symbolizes her pain and confusion.

_Her eyes stare blankly across the room at the bookcase that has yet to hold a book._

The empty book shelf symbolizes his lack of knowledge on how to treat her, as well as informing the reader of his disinterest in anything outside of drinking and Bella.

_He can't remember why he was angry, but that's how he knows that __she's__helped him._

The fact that the drink is referred to as a woman shows that his addiction is more or less taking over his life. The fact that he can't remember "why he was angry" shows that he was never really upset about anything; he just wanted an excuse to get drunk.

_The only one who can truly take away his anger and his pain and anything that has ever hurt him is __her__. __She's __the one that fills his glass, and even though he knows __she __shouldn't be, __she's __more important than the one who fills his heart._

His addiction is taking away the best of his life.

_She's the one who makes him angry. She makes him hate himself._

_He knows he's not worthy of her love._

_And he would blame her for making him turn to __her__but she's never to be tainted by his addiction._

He's looking for someone to blame but he could never truly blame Bella because he knows he has a problem.

_He says yes and throws down every bill he has in his pocket, even though he knows he'll never be done._

_He doesn't know it yet but he just gave the bartender a thousand dollars._

Edward is an extremely careless man, and the fact that he carries that much money around with him shows that he is very wealthy (perhaps from inheritance?).

_It would sound condescending to the ears of others but this is not how it's intended._

In case you hadn't picked up on it yet . . . Edward is mentally unstable.

_His tongue slips out to taste the dry flesh between her lower lips._

_. . ._

_He is not offended._

_He loves, and he can make her love, too._

She doesn't want to have any kind of sex now. She's too hurt. But he doesn't care; he won't let her go because he needs her to want him at all times, even when he knows he's undeserving.

_But he's not nearly finishing loving her with his mouth. He strokes up and down with his tongue, trailing his face down his path, giving each and every part of her equal attention._

He wants to be as close to her as he can possibly get. He also isn't particularly worried about . . . getting dirty.

_But she's uncomfortable._

His plan isn't working very well.

_Her fingers untangle from his hair and she reaches down to push his face from her core._

_His arms lock around her lower back and he pulls her impossibly closer, frantically searching for more of her love. He pants heavily against her, releasing his own breath to take in her essence._

She needs space but he won't let her go.

_He releases her tip only to move to her other, "Then we'll talk," he whispers, running his tongue over her peak. Her hips jerk against his body in response, ready for more of his love and he starts to move down again._

He is not overly concerned with her happiness as long as she sticks around.

_Her scent swirls around his brain, and he realizes that the high that __she__brings him to . . . it's nothing compared to her love._

_He realizes that he doesn't need __her__like he did before he had her._

He realizes now that his relationship with alcohol is not love but an addiction, and that love and addiction are meant to be to very different things.

_And that's more than he can say for anyone else that had ever touched his life._

He's clearly been a screw up for a long time.

_She isn't allowed to give her love to anyone else. Her love belongs to him, as well as every other part of her._

_Before he even realizes what he's doing he's already out the door._

_He doesn't know where he's going but he can't stay home anymore._

_He doesn't think about the fact that he's on a route he's been on so many times before._

_And when he walks into the bar, __she__greets him._

_"__I've missed you, my love.__"_

He is incapable of getting over his addiction because he does not wish to do it for himself, but for Bella instead, so he doesn't have the strength to resist when Bella is not there to be the reason.

* * *

**~ Sage ~**


	4. Lykke Li

**Until We Bleed**

**LYKKE LI**

* * *

_This is the song that the one-shot is based on._

* * *

I'm naked  
I'm numb  
I'm stupid  
I'm staying  
And if Cupid's got a gun  
Then he's shootin'

Lights black  
Heads bang  
You're my drug  
We live it  
You're drunk, you need it  
Real love, I'll give it

So we're bound to linger on  
We drink the fatal drop  
Then love until we bleed  
Then fall apart in parts

You wasted your times  
On my heart  
You've burned  
And if bridges gotta fall  
Then you'll fall too

Doors slam  
Lights black  
You're gone  
Come back  
Stay gone  
Stay clean  
I need you to need me

So we're bound to linger on  
We drink the fatal drop  
Then love until we bleed  
Then fall apart in parts

Now we're bound to linger on  
We drink the fatal drop  
Then love until we bleed  
Then fall apart in parts

* * *

**~ Harlow & Sage ~**


End file.
